


Dayenu

by Eshnoazot



Series: Queen Ascendant [3]
Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Female Jewish Character, Jewish Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 10:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshnoazot/pseuds/Eshnoazot
Summary: Jupiter Jones liberates half the galaxy and then she relaxes into chairs with peeling vanish. Then she kisses Caine so hard their teeth knock together. It’s a victory kiss, and it tastes like just enough.





	Dayenu

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimers apply: I'm not Jewish, I'm just trying to build a universe that expands on the fact that Jupe is DEF Jewish.

Jupiter sits on the gilded throne given to her by the miracle of her genes, while she sits on the cracking wood of her family’s kitchen chair, and she clutches her ornate pen with cracked nails. It is the 22nd of Nissan and Jupiter can smell the matzo ball soup cooking in the kitchen and hear Aunt Lyudmila and Aunt Irina yelling over the recipe.

Her mother is setting the seder table, and singing under her breath “ _Dai, da-ye-nu,_ Dai, da-ye-nu, Dai, da-ye-nu, Da-ye-nu, da-ye-nu, da-ye-nu..” and Jupiter’s heart is so full of love that tears are in the corners of her eyes.

It is the final day of Passover, and Jupiter is thrumming with the words, _“Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and that the L-rd your G-d redeemed you from there. Therefore, I command you to do [justice].”_

She takes a deep breath in and twirls her hand with Caine’s as she signs the order.

Ninety-seven inhabited planets, all scoped out by the Keepers of those planets, have the entirety of the planet’s inhabitants named – and given an equal share of 99% of the planet’s ownership. Jupiter retains 1% and that’s just enough to ensure the Abrasax industry is ready to fight with bloody knuckles to take down the rest of the galaxy’s life-sucking entitled. She signs again – and across the galaxy, thirty-two billion, nine hundred thousand, five hundred and ninety-seven enslaved splices working within the Abrasax corporation are freed, and immediately sent employee contracts of higher than market rates.

She signs again – and she outlaws unpaid contracts, and contacts made on behalf of another, and in a single day, defines slavery and makes it unjust, illegal and ties it into the religion that has sprouted up around Seraphi Abrasax – and makes slavery a thing to be abhorred.

Jupiter Jones liberates half the galaxy and then she relaxes into chairs with peeling vanish. Then she kisses Caine so hard their teeth knock together. It’s a victory kiss, and it tastes like _enough_.

-

By earth time, it is the 4th of April when she steps foot on Abalus. It is a darling world, the sky is a rich amber that reminds her of garnets and honey. The three suns that light up the sky from afar keep the world in an endless dual sunrise and sunset. There is a bright green moon in the sky, that the inhabitants call _Basilia_ , which is perfectly smooth and round. It has been untouched by any meteor, and Jupiter finds herself staring up at it periodically, contrasting it against the pitted craters of her own planets moon.

It is a tiny world with a Mediterranean climate and endless amber sands. The trees reach high into the sky, with red and golden hues that characterise this endless autumn world. It is only when she gets close that Jupiter can see the completely translucent flowers nestled between tiny purple fruits.

They touch down on the biggest of the three cities of Abalus; _Irkalla_ , which is a sprawling city built around the tallest of the trees. Buildings have been partially carved into the side of a tree, and then built out with glass and the parts of the tree which had been removed. They touch down at the very top of the tallest tree, on a platform carved along a branch, and descend towards the greeting party.

The High Priestess of Abalus is a woman with vibrant green eyes outlined with golden-red stains. She’s some kind of insect splice, with a chalky amber mud dried all over her body, sticking her hair to her body and obscuring the colour. She is dressed in a loose robe of beige which has been wrapped around her like a toga. She presses her hands together, as if in a prayer, before dropping to her knees and raising her palms like an offering.

“It is an honour to have your visit, my Queen Jupiter,” The High Priestess says in reverence twisting her mouth around an approximation of Jupiter’s name in a way that doesn’t match up with the words Jupiter has heard, “I, High Priestess Sahbt Ksksalle, am honoured to facilitate your inspection.”

It is English that Jupiter hears, due to the tiny micro-computers in her blood and brain. The tiny little robots have a library of more languages that Jupiter knows of, and quickly form pathways between her synapses, so the result in a bypass of her own brain – she hears information and knows what it means immediately. It works so effectively that you don’t learn another language, another language becomes synonymous with your native tongue. It is only if you actively concentrate that you can filter through the information beaming through your brain.

If Jupiter concentrates, she can see the mouths that move the wrong way, and the words that convey information but miss meaning. This is a skill that Stinger says is only cultivated through learning another language the proper way – and Jupiter has English, Russian and just a little bit of Hebrew under her belt. Most Entitled left their devices on manual, in order to better understand the information being thrown at them – most people leave theirs on automatic, because they don’t need to detect the subtle nuances of words during business. It is a habit they are training into her, but one that is giving her literal headaches while he acclimatises.

“Ek’le’mak’lo Semiramis rak’Abrasax Yupetar,” The High Priestess had greeted, “Ek’le’nal’sa Sahbt Ksksalle. Lorkht-rak’sa’nam.”

At the same time the high priestess speaks, compound eyes jittering, Jupiter concentrates on the difference between what she hears due to the translation devices and what she understands.

 _Ek’le’mak’lo_ , she thinks ‘honoured (am I of lower stature) to receive (you of highest stature)’, _‘Semiramis’_ , a word for Queen of all Queens, a word for a creator, a goddess – the mother of Seraphi Abrasax, _‘rak’sa’_ of the (tree) branch, _‘Abrasax Yupetar’_ – daughter of the Abrasax (a pantheon of gods), Yupetar.’

 Jupiter blinks and the words shift in meaning, until she redefines the meaning of the words to ‘I am honoured to receive you, daughter of the Goddess Semiramis, Jupiter of House Abrasax’ but despairs over the lost meaning in those words.

 _‘Lorkht-rak’sa’nam’_ – I welcome you (here and after eternally) to stay with my (tree)branch home/family.

 _“Ek’lo’mal’set,”_ Jupiter returns the greeting, “ Rak’Sahbt Kskelle. Nav’set nast’nav’lo.”

‘Honoured am I (of high stature) to greet (one-with-my-respect) Kskelle of House/(Tree) Branch Sahbt. I wish to know/help you’ Jupiter says, just as she says ‘I’m honoured to be here Kskelle Sahbt and I’m here to help’ and just as much as she speaks the words in the Irkallan dialect of Abalus.

The High Priestess looks thrown for a second, and Jupiter knows that it’s entirely because she stressed _‘ek’lo’mal’set_ ’ (a greeting between equals) rather than Ek’lo’mal’va (a greeting from one higher to one lower). Jupiter knows this knowledge innately, and the sheer knowledge that is coming forth from somewhere deep inside of her throws her for just a second.

Krselle clasps her hands, and invites her down into the tree through a hollow, and then descend an ornate staircase carved into the tree. The air inside is moist, and cool: a sudden relief against the arid dry warmth of the planet’s atmosphere. They go further and further down, past the doors of houses and businesses, until they reach a wide section with endless glass. Condensation has misted the glass over, and droplets of water are dripping down with audible trickles. It feels like a rainforest, although there is little foliage in sight. The room is big and low, with a single ornate throne carved with imagery of the Abrasax dynasty. Around this, there are thick cushions on the floor perched on a tapestry woven with golds, browns and reds. Jupiter takes the cushion on the floor and receives a surprised look in return.

“We are blessed you heeded our call, we desire knowledge/help,” The High Priestess asks when kneels on a cushion, “Our trees are deep and old and thirst. Our water processors have given us unsustainable amounts.”

 _‘Ek’le’ma’lo rak’Abrasax Yupetar, tav’sha nat’nav’lo. Rak’salt-nat rak’tennovar’ka. test’ka-lonnadar.”_ Jupiter also hears, and then knows: _‘I (lower stature) welcome (higher stature) Jupiter of House Abrasax (who) knew our help-call. Tree (life) is need of help, (too old) tree is thirst for deep-water. (too few) water is made from glass and people of tree-Irkalla suffer.’_

The meeting goes much like this. The trees that survive on Abalus have tap roots which dive down hundreds of kilometres into the deep water beneath the crusts of the planet. These trees are almost as ancient as the House of Abrasax, and not a single new tree has been grown since the planet was seeded. The trees continue to sap the deep water, dropping the water every single year millimetre by millimetre, until the water was too deep for any new tree to dream of reaching. The people of Abalus carved their world into the trees with enormous care, and replaced tree bark with glass in strategic sections, to draw water from the tree itself, and flow down in twisting patterns to be available for all people within a tree to drink, and bathe and live. As the population grew, more water was needed, and soon the water-draw was too much for the trees to keep-up with, and the water-levels deep in the crust kept falling.

To complicate the situation more, the planet has ‘Basil’al’ which roughly correspond to continents, with frim ground to build on and grow trees and food. Then there are ‘Khrst’ – endless deserts of red quicksand which devour people in seconds. From the top of the tree, Jupiter can peer out the window to see the bright green fences invoking Basilia to starve off the consumption of the sands.

The world of Abalus has been crying for help for over a thousand years, and hundreds of great trees have perished, and so the cities built around them were swallowed into the deserts. Abrasax industries had calculated the cost and written the world off as uneconomical to fix.

“Rak’Sahbt tel’rak’Litsa-k’basilia Ebhri,” High Priestess Krselle announces, as a small girl wanders into the room with a tray of glasses and a sealed wooden bottle. The High Priestess is very careful as she opens the bottle of water and hands it to Jupiter reverently. It is water – and watches while Jupiter fills every glass with water, and then hands the glasses out to every person in the room – The High Priestess, Caine at her back, the High Priestess, and the serving girl. While she does so silently, she tries to translate the words in her head.

‘Ebhri of the House/(Tree) branch Sahbt, before of House/(tree) branch Lita – now with Basilia’, She finally establishes and then softens her eyes as she translates the meaning of the High Priestesses words- ‘This is Ebhri of my house, who was once of the house Litsa – but now Litsa is dead and with Basilia (the place of the afterlife/the moon).’

“K’Basilia, avek-sha thy’hal’ya,” Jupiter responds, - ‘(By my hands/prayer/hope) with Basilia in the life of green and life.’

They take a short break, while the High Priestess leaves them graciously to talk. Jupiter relaxes her shoulders and feels the headache grow.

“Olousi-maelihoi,” Caine says and then looks at her concerned, “Ahei Uul-i-ler-?”

Caine speaks common Ourosian when he speaks to her: a language built on vowels, with b,l, h, m, t, s/c and f as vowel sounds. Seraphi is closer to Saeafi than what her brain immediately connects to.

“Uul-i-ler?” Caine prompts.

Nanites at the deepest level, with translation software that was born millennia before her birth planet was seeded, work within millionths of a second to connect signals in her brain to ‘Serve-you (explain how) Jupiter’ and then to ‘How can I help you, Jupiter?”

“I want to help,” Jupiter said firmly, “Can we just, put a bunch of water into the ground and help them plant new trees?”

Caine shrugs and sends the order off to the ship, who call her back ten minutes later with three Abrasax’s geo-engineers visibly thrumming with excitement.

“The problem isn’t the available water,” The caterpillar-splice tells her, “The sinking sands that are eroding the arable land is colloid hydrogel, water in the sand cannot escape, it creates a liquefied soil that loses strength and cannot support weight. Water from the artesian basin which supports the trees the inhabitants live on, is upwards flowing due to pressure leaks. We need to artificially part the sands and make repairs to the pressure points which are leaking. Once we do that, we can extract the water from the sand and then return the water into the core – since the planet has very little in the way of a natural water evaporation cycle.”

Jupiter leaves her water-glass half full on the table and goes off to find the High Priestess with determination.

Five hours later, Jupiter is standing next to the Priestess, while anti-grav drones and forcefields are forcing red sand back thousands of kilometres deep. The Priestess is in awe, and Jupiter is holding the control panel, to show her what is being done.

The serving girl, Ebhri, who is older than Jupiter first thought, is looking in awe at the world around her, “My people sailed for forty days across the sands to find the safety of Sahbt,” the girl nods sharply, “I am honoured to witness the great rising.”

Jupiter snorts at her seriousness and laughs with Caine when they get to the open water-wells, where the water had settled on the hard bedrock in tiny water-pools. Jupiter sinks her feet into the shallow pools and beckons the High Priestess and Ebhri over to dip their legs in which the engineers bicker over sealing strategies.

It takes a blink of an eye to seal up the leaking water-wells, which are causing all kinds of problems, and Jupiter and the High Priestess walk on the bottom of a parted red-sand sea alongside the engineers, inspecting the process of the water-pumps, which are sucking water from the sands.

“You have blessed us this day and purified our despair in many-droplets of-water” The High Priestess Krselle tells her, in a dialect so thick and emotional her nanites struggle to translate it, “You have blessed my family forevermore.”

Jupiter grins, “On my home planet, we call many-droplets of-water, pools,” Jupiter replies, already loading up a photo on her shitty tersie phone of herself and Caine at a waterpark, “I’m sure soon you’ll be able to have stores of water like this if you want.”

The High Priestess stares at Jupiter like a woman witnessing a miracle.

-

“Oulei-laei U-u-li-er, naela-sa?” Caine asks her one day, then grins as she blinks and translates the sentence to ‘Create-you, Jupiter, under star-time?’ and then to “When were you born Jupiter?”

Orousian concepts of birthdays are vastly different from earth; a whole different concept of time and space to work within. For starters, Orous a ‘alei’ and a ‘alel’ – day and night respectively, each of 18 hours, and both are considered to be separate ‘days’.

A ‘week’ is a ‘Sali’, of exactly nine ‘alei’ and nine ‘alel’, which is calculated by the time it takes for Orous’ moon to circle the planet. The moon appears twice in a week, once in an alei and once in an alel and it marks important economic periods. It makes 18 different ‘days’, each with 18 hours, meaning a week ‘Sali’ has 324 hours. It means Orous has a night and day work population constantly working to sustain the planet-factory.

There are 18 ‘Sali’, which make the year 324 days long – 162 in sunlight, and 162 under the night’s sky. It’s mathematical and clear, and the births of children are recorded down to the seconds because the inhabitants of Orous are acutely aware of time, because their whole culture is rigidly supernaturally aware of it at every second of the day.  Seraphi was born during the sunrise on the 1st of Abrasi, in the year 489 of the 110th millennia. It is a holy-commerce day and has been for the past 95 millenia. 

Because of this, the Orousian concept of a birthday is less the day of birth and more the day of conception, of creation. Caine can tell her his exact time of creation, the second his genome was brought forth into the universe. Death is but an _interlude_ in the story of your life, and no doubt he wants to know when her story continued afresh. The first time he’d brought the subject up she’d made a quip about the sequel being better than the original before he’d shrugged it off and dropped the issue. Now, it feels more personal, and it’s partly due to the culture of birthday cake and balloons that permeate Chicago.

She cannot tell him.

“Haeli-sa’na, Caiyn,” Jupiter shrugs, ‘Understand-this not, Caine’.

Caine blinks owlishly, “What do you mean you don’t know? I though you earth tersies were all about celebrating your birthday?”

Jupiter shrugs again, “I was born in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, I don’t know the exact date or time. I just know it was 1991, and it could have been late July or August, maybe September. My Aunt Nino says I was born in the House of Leo with the planet Jupiter 23 degrees ascendant. She said it means I was destined for great things.”

“You said your family brought you a telescope for your birthday,” Caine replied, looking confused, “How do you choose when to celebrate?”

“The 7th of August,” Jupiter shrugged, “It’s halfway into Leo – the starsign, so Aunt Nino said it was a safe bet.”

Caine’s face twitched, “If you could know, would you want to know?”

Jupiter’s breathe catches in her throat.

-

She’s back on Abalus six days later, checking in with her team of geo-engineers to make sure everything is completely fine. Caine is with her again, and they are both giddy because they are officially courting or dating, and Caine is finally allowing himself to sleep in her bed. Jupiter is feeling bright and powerful – not because of what she owns or who she is, but because she can give and give and wield enormous power to improve lives and liberate worlds. She can remember a Rabbi, preening over her, and telling her that the preservation of life was above almost any commandment – but never murder. Because the value of one life was never more than another - _‘Anyone who destroys a human life is considered as if he had destroyed an entire world, and anyone who preserves a human life is considered to have preserved an entire world.’_ The Rabbi had told her, and Jupiter’s mind is screaming with the fight to protect every single life, in the same way that Seraphi had once screamed that she created lives and created entire worlds.

She returns to Irkalla when the dusty amber sky is filled with thick clouds promising rain, and is greeted by a High Priestess with green compound eyes, dressed in flowing green with a tiny child on her hip.

“Hello,” The High Priestess says, “I am welcome to have you here, I am High Priestess Yupe’tsai”

The English throws her, and she mentally checks her translation nanites to ensure that they hadn’t been set to automatic – they hadn’t. The nanites only catch Yupe’tsai – Daughter blessed by Jupiter – before they stop offering information.

“It’s only polite to talk in your native language, when you spoke to ours in our own the last time you visited, many generations ago,” Yupe’tsai says, in a voice that rings with wisdom and age, “We are doing so healthily and water abounds. We are caring for saplings that in a thousand generations, will house new members of our kind.”

Caine’s hand tightens in her own, and it sends a wave of tingles up her arm.

As they walk, Caine is whispering softly in her ear, “She’s a splice with a creature analogous to an earth mayfly. Jupiter, she’s probably a distant descendent of the High Priestess we were last introduced to.”

Jupiter’s voice is crackly when she enters into the conference room, where her water glass is still sat exactly where it had been left.

“Many generations ago you last visited us, in the time of the honoured High Priestess Krselle, who was so pious and compassionate and strong that her prayers did call a goddess to save our people, lost in the sinking sands, to part the red-sands to save us. My foremother Krselle bore my foremother Tenno’tsai, who bore my foremother Basili’tsai, who bore my mother Ikrel’li, ,” The High Priestess tells her, with adoration in her eyes, “When you contacted my mother a generation ago to herald your arrival, my mother named me in your honour. I hope it pleases you my lady queen Jupiter, she who stole water from the sands which stole from the people, she of the rains, the bringer of the pools.”

The High Priestess lifts her baby from her hip and presents it to Jupiter like an offering to a god. Jupiter instantly reacts and lifts an arm around the child’s neck.

“My daughter,” The High Priestess tells her with the widest of eyes, “She will soon grow and lead our tree for the rest of her life. It is a task hard for her to bear, but one that must be done to ensure our lives now and forevermore. I ask for a name of great strength, able to sacrifice, but able to fight.”

“Krselle,” Jupiter tells her, “Name her Krselle.”

She does.

-

It is the 4th day of the month of Elul when Jupiter Jones is curled up on her bed with her pencil paused over her page with a hesitant look. Her teacher is asking her to draw a family tree, and she’s _stuck_. Downstairs, her mother is yelling at Uncle Vassily and it’s _all her fault_.

Her family tree is tiny. She can put down her mum and Aunt Nino but thats when things get complicated.

And she KNOWS that Uncle Vassily must be on here somewhere, but he’s mama’s cousin, and she doesn’t know HOW that family tree is supposed to go. Her mama doesn’t talk about her parents, and all she knows about her Jones grandparents is that one had been an English diplomat. It’s not enough to go on, and she doesn’t even know their names, and something stirs deeply unsettled in her stomach.

It was a mistake to ask Uncle Vassily for help on her project, because he’d turned bright purple and started yelling aimlessly before she’d scampered off to her room. Instead, she tucks her family tree under her pillow, and she pulls out printables she’d gotten at the synagogue that mama went to on special days. She’d last been a week ago, and mama had spent much time talking and crying to an old Rabbi with tattoos on his arm. Jupiter had been plucked off to the creche with the other children who were learning Hebrew from colourful posters on the way, and a lanky teenaged girl with thick grasses and frizzy curly hair.

“It’s the last month of the year,” The teenaged girl had cheerfully said, “The month of divine mercy and forgiveness; it’s time for teshuvah, charity, and more Ahavat Yisrael! I want to talk to you about Pikuach nefesh, that the preservation of human life overrides almost anything else.”

There is a whiteboard, which bears the words _“When you have come to the land the Lord, your God, is giving you, you shall not learn to do like the abominations of those nations.”_

Jupiter stares and stares at it but it doesn’t make any sense. That’s all she can remember because she doesn’t know enough Hebrew to keep up, and her mama comes and gets her a few minutes anyway, while the Rabbi is frowning and asking her mama to reconsider – to contact her husband’s family in England and-

When mama had come home from her cleaning job, and found Jupiter sniffling into her blankets, she’d stormed downstairs in a rage. Hours later, mama came back to sweep her in a warm hug and distracted her with bedtime stories in funny voices.

When Jupiter awakes the next morning, and panics because her family tree is due, and she has _nothing –_ she finds a sprawling family tree, and her mother is poking her awake with a smile.

“I do not know what age your aunt Irina was born,” Her mama tells her with a shrug, “Could be Bronze age, could be prehistoric. Is _definitely_ from Dark Ages.”

Aunt Nino cackles from across the room and Jupiter giggles along with her.

“Keep this little Jupiter and know your family. They are all gone to us now, and I was lucky to know my great-grandmother and great-grandfather, where you have only so little family,” Her mother smiles something secret, “Family is important yes, but you will create your own family one day, name your own children, and make a change for good. Make wise choices and remember where your family came from. It is your responsibility to know where your family is coming _to_.”

-

“I did some research. You said your mother fled Leningrad,” Caine says, straight in his chair, “So your mother must have fled before the city was renamed as St. Petersburg on September 6, 1991. Jupiter, the planet, takes about twelve years to move through each zodiac sign, so it takes 12 years to be in leo. Jupiter was in Leo from September 1978 to September 1979; August 1990 to the middle of September 1991; and from August 2002 to late August 2003. So, you must have been born between August 1990 to September 1991.”

Jupiter frowned a little, but Caine smoothed away her frown lines with his gentle thumbs.

“Your father was found dead in his apartment on July 2nd, 1991 – which started a diplomatic incident between the British and Soviet Union governments, as Maximillian Jones’ pregnant wife was reported missing. Three days later, on July 5th, eighteen ships left the Leningrad port. Most bound for Europe, two for Australia – but a single container ship, the Atlas, was bound for America,” Caine let a tiny smile quirk at the corners of his lips, “Your Aunt Nino reported that you were born when Jupiter was at 23 degrees Leo. This happened from the 9th to the 15th of August 1991. The Atlas recorded the weather of their travels according to customs of the shipping company – and they recorded heavy clouds all week – with the exception of August the 14th between 8pm and 11pm.”

Jupiter stared.

“Jupiter, you were born on the 14th of August, 1991,” Caine’s smile was wide but nervous, “On the 5th of Elul, 5751, on the 14th of август.”

Jupiter cries.


End file.
